"Right you are," he said. "Put 'em on," and he held out his hands for the handcuffs.
Mr. Dockett, however, seemed to enjoy the joke so much as to be incapable of doing his duty.
"Well, if this isn't a pantomime," he chuckled. "No, no; I don't want you yet, go with that gentleman, if he'll have you——"
"That I will!" said Leicester, laying his hand upon Stumpy's hand. "He has been faithful and honest to me, let the rest of the world say what it will."
"Go there with him then, sir," said Mr. Dockett, and he turned, with a cheerful nod, to the village.
Stumpy, however, ran after him and, laying one hand upon the side of the cart, whispered a few words in the detective's ear.
"Eh?" said Mr. Dockett. "The general's not dead! Is it true? Come!" and his eyes sparkled. "Where is he?"
But Stumpy, having succeeded in exciting the hitherto calm officer into something like eagerness, ran back and joined Leicester, leaving Mr. Dockett driving toward the village and muttering:
"Not dead! Is it true, I wonder? Heaven! if he isn't how I should like to have the collaring of him. So the general's not dead! It's too good to be true!"